


The Trouble With Wanting

by unlockedlips



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, But Nothing Horrible, Eddie really hates Richie, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemy is a strong word but, First Date, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 00:36:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlockedlips/pseuds/unlockedlips
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak isn't a normal kid. For years, his mother insisted he was sick, forced prescription after prescription down his throat and waxed poetic about the dangers of the world, but when she gets arrested for abuse, Eddie realizes it was all a lie. Now he's moving to a new town with an aunt he barely knows as everything he's ever known comes crashing down. He thinks he'll never find a place in the world until he meets the Losers. They adopt him into their club immediately and he loves them for it, all except one. Richie Tozier is a no good, foul mouthed brat with a penchant for pissing Eddie off. And what's worse is that Eddie knows he's hiding something from all of them, something bad, and he's going to be the one to expose him if it's the last thing he does.





	The Trouble With Wanting

**Author's Note:**

> what's up y'all, I literally cannot think about anything except these kiddos and it's killing me!! So here, have this fic as a result of my suffering. I'm hoping to update the chapters weekly as I already have everything plotted out. Things might get tricky closer to November because I'm in the middle of a move, but I'll let you guys know if the schedule is going to get wonky.
> 
> comments and kudos are always welcomed and cherished and appreciated! if you want to scream about reddie to me, follow me on tumblr at spagheddie-ohs or ask about joining my partner's 18+ reddie server!
> 
> love to you all :*

The world is too large.

Eddie is used to confined spaces. He’s used to the soft cream colored walls of his bedroom, devoid of posters, curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sunlight. He’s used to the faded floral wallpaper of his living room, cluttered with porcelain statues of cute animals his mother bought on QVC and empty prescription bottles. He’s used to his dad’s old office, of old cherrywood desks and uncomfortable chairs filled with books on algebra and world history. He’s used to sterile offices and waiting rooms, of medical tools and stern doctors with cold eyes.

All of that is gone now. The walls have been knocked down, demolished and covered in dust, and he wants desperately to burrow himself in the rubble. It’s safe. It’s familiar. But it’s certainly not normal.

Eddie looks outside of the window of his aunt’s old Volkswagen, watching the trees blur together into a solid mass of green against the vacant sky. It’s vibrant and alive and terrifying. His fingers dig into his khaki covered knees as he tries to tune out his aunt’s inane chatter. She hasn’t paused to take a breath since she picked him up that morning. He thinks maybe it’s because she’s nervous.

He’s nervous too.

“I really think this move will be good for you, Eddie. I know I wasn’t around much when you were younger, but that’s going to change now. You’re going to love your new home. The house needs some work, I only got it a few months ago. It’s so stupid that the courts wouldn’t let me take you back to my old apartment. It wasn’t that small. Anyway, I’ve already told everyone in town so you’ll be making friends in no time. Can you imagine it? Actual friends. I’m telling you, you’re going to love it.”

Eddie doesn’t think he will.

He already misses his old routine. He misses eating bland toast and orange juice for breakfast while his mother read him the newspaper and warned him of the dangers outside. He misses her sickly sweet perfume as she kissed his forehead to tell him ‘don’t forget your medication, Eddie Bear.’ He doesn’t want to live in a new house. He doesn’t want everyone knowing that he’s the kid whose mother lied about him being sick for years. He certainly doesn’t want any friends because he knows they won’t want him.

But the court system said he can’t have any of that back. They convicted his mother of neglect and medical abuse and a whole bunch of other stuff he doesn’t really understand. They locked her away and told him that starting now, he would have a normal life. He’d have to go outside and go to school and make friends. As if any of that would be possible for him. Do normal sixteen year olds have dead fathers and mothers in prison? Did they spend their formative years sorting pills and being generally terrified of everything outside of his mother’s control?  
Jennifer doesn’t stop talking and he still doesn’t try to listen. Eddie presses his forehead against the cool glass and closes his eyes against the dizzying view. 

The world is too large and he wonders if it might swallow him whole.

___________________________________________________________________________

The house isn’t much of a house at all. They drive up a long, winding dirt driveway, the car jostling and bouncing him in a way that makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. He grabs hold of the door with a white knuckled grip and his aunt glances at him in sympathy.

“Sorry, kid, I know it’s rough. Maybe we can get it paved sometime soon. But good news! We’re almost there. Can you see it, right behind those trees?” She points somewhere in front of them, the wheel slipping from her grasp and nearly careening them into a ditch. Eddie yelps and clamps a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from spilling the contents of his stomach.

Eddie squints his eyes and he thinks he can see the vague shape of a house behind the gnarled trunks and branches. It’s small. It looks more like a hunting cabin than a house. The closer they get, the worse he feels about it until finally the rollercoaster of the drive is over and Eddie looks on in horror.

It’s a fucking death trap.

The front porch is riddled with rotten planks and invasive plants that wind up along the beams and into the rafters. He doesn’t even know if he can walk up the front steps for fear of falling straight through and breaking a bone. And the windows? They’re covered in dirt and grime so thick that he’s sure it will prevent any light from shining through. It’s old, it’s filthy, and it’s his new home.

Beside him, Jennifer kills the engine and grins as she gazes upon their new home. “Like I said, it needs some work but it’s got some good bones. With a little elbow grease, I think she’ll look good as new in no time. What do you say?” She looks at him expectantly and Eddie can’t bear the thought of meeting her gaze.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

Eddie opens the door and promptly does just that.

___________________________________________________________________________

The first week is horrible.

It’s summer vacation so Eddie doesn’t have to go to school. Instead, he spends his days unpacking his meager possessions into his closet of a bedroom while Jennifer insists on pretending like nothing’s fine. She orders him pizza for dinner and tells him it’s better for him than all the vegetables and chicken his mom made him eat. He can’t remember the last time he had pizza, and apparently, neither can his body because for the rest of the night, he’s clutching his stomach in his room. His mom used to tell him he wasn’t allowed to have cheese because he was lactose intolerant but the doctors said it was a lie. He can eat all the cheese and ice cream he wants; his body just needs to adjust.

It seems like adjusting is harder than he anticipated.

After his closet is full of crisp polos and pressed khakis, he sits at the kitchen table to watch his aunt work. It’s not like he has anything else to do and the commotion she’s causing doesn’t make it easy to pay attention to anything except his depressed thoughts. 

Jennifer is young. Sometimes Eddie forgets that she’s less than fifteen years his senior. There’s a serious countenance to her even though she never stops babbling or smiling or laughing, like maybe this whole thing with his mom has already aged her. He pretends not to notice the deeply etched lines of worry on her brow and around her eyes as she glances at him when she thinks he’s not paying attention, but he sees it all the same. It makes him feel inexplicably guilty and he hates it.

But when Jennifer bakes? The tension in her shoulders eases and the smile on her face is bright enough to light a whole room. Maybe it’s because she’s doing what she loves, maybe it’s because she knows how happy she’s going to make someone with a fresh loaf of bread, or maybe it’s because it gives her an excuse to make a mess out of their outdated kitchen.

“Hm… I think I’m going to need more flour,” she murmurs to herself as she furiously stirs yet another mixing bowl. The counters are littered with them, full of dough that is proofing in the humid heat billowing in from the open windows. It’s stuffy and the whole process takes hours, but Jennifer loves it. Eddie doesn’t really get the appeal.

“Maybe that’s because you covered the entire kitchen in flour instead of putting it in your bread,” Eddie says, propping his head in his hand on the table.

There’s a moment of silence followed by the sound of the spoon in his aunt’s hand clattering into the bowl, splattering the contents all over the floor. Eddie holds still, scared and frozen as his chest constricts. ‘I’m sorry, Mommy. I didn’t mean to. I know only bad boys back talk. No, Mommy, I want to be a good son. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.’

He waits for Jennifer to chastise him, to tell him he has to spend the next three days alone in his room without anything except his studies to keep him company. Instead, Jennifer throws her hair back and laughs. The whole kitchen fills with the sudden sound of it, boisterous and clear like chiming bells. It’s a beautiful sound and still it does nothing to quell the unshakeable fear that he has done something horrifically wrong.

“Did you just sass me? That’s the first thing you’ve said to me all day and it was full of sass!” She cackles and fixes him with a bright stare. There’s nothing but warm fondness there.

“I… well, I… I guess so? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… What I meant is that maybe if you just… you know, stirred a little more gently, you wouldn’t waste so much flour?”

Jennifer snorts and rolls her eyes as she picks up her spoon and flings a bit of batter in his general direction. He jumps out of his chair with a startled yelp, and she only grins wider.

“Relax, kid. I like your sass. Feel free to be as sassy as you want in this house. But if you want to make it up to me, take your bike into town and pick up some more up. I have to start a new batch of cinnamon raisin before my shift starts at the theater.”

And that’s how Eddie finds himself on a bicycle for the first time in six years.

___________________________________________________________________________

Before his dad passed away, Eddie would ride his bike every day. It became an integral part of his childhood. Get off the bus, do his homework, eat a snack, and go outside. Nothing made him happier than coasting down the hills of his neighborhoods, hands in the air as he precariously teetered down to the bottom.

Nothing except his father.

Days where his dad came home from work early were his favorite because that meant he had company on his afternoon rides. His dad would rush to grab his old bike, still wearing his suit from his office job, and together they would map out adventures that kept them out until Sonia called them in for dinner. Some nights they would pretend to hunt for treasure, stopping and parking their bikes here and there to peek under rocks and search through the hedges. And some nights they would race each other to see who could win and without fail, his father would always lag behind to cheer him on. “That’s my Eddie!” he’d shout with laughter and Eddie would beam brighter than the setting sun. It didn’t matter what game they played when it was just the two of them. His dad always made sure he came home breathless and full of laughter.

Eddie used to love riding his bike until his father died. Eddie used to ride it all the time until his mother told him it was too dangerous. 

It could hurt him.

It could kill him.

As it turns out, Eddie still loves to ride his bike.

It’s hard work getting his legs back into the rhythm of it. He very nearly falls twice on his way down the winding driveway as his wheels get caught between the rocks, and his lungs burn with exertion, unused to being worked after being sedentary for so long. But once he gets out onto the main road and the tires hit asphalt, he flies. Eddie turns his face up to the summer sunshine and lets it warm his pale skin, and he wonders how long it will take for the dusting of freckles along his cheeks to reappear.

Eddie pushes himself harder than he should. His calves and thighs burn like fire, his palms begin to sweat against the handlebar, but he doesn’t dare slow down now that he’s picked up speed. Instead he lets the wind push him faster as it ruffles his tightly cropped curls and he laughs, full bodied and maybe just a little desperate. This, he thinks, is what he should have been feeling for the past six years.

Jennifer had given him some vague directions on how to get into town and they’re easy enough to follow. The wide street narrows the closer he gets into town and he begins to pass cars of moms and dads on their way home from work. He tries to keep his head down whenever one approaches for fear of them trying to stop him. He doesn’t trust strangers, even less now that he knows his aunt announced his arrival to the entire residence of Derry. By some miracle, he makes it all the way to the corner supermarket without being recognized.

He’s parking his bike next to an old lamp post that’s covered in rust when he spots a group of kids hanging around outside. They look to be his age, maybe a little older, and totally nonthreatening which means he has no excuse for the panic that flares in his chest. His whole body freezes even as he tries to talk himself down. See, adults are easy. They’ll leave him alone after looking at him with unabashed pity and a pathetic attempt at an apology. But kids? Kids are cruel. He remembers that much even before his mom started to homeschool. They’re malicious and evil and they definitely don’t like other kids that look like him. They target them.

Eddie takes a sharp breath and shoves his hands into his pockets, eyes trained on the cracked sidewalk as he rushes into the store. He thinks maybe, just maybe, luck is in his favor and he’ll be able to grab the bag of flour and head home without much trouble when he hears the most annoying voice he thinks he’s ever heard.

“Holy shit! It’s that kid! The one with that mom that got arrested, right? It’s gotta be! Look at him! Eddie Kaspbrak! Can I get your autograph? You’re like a celebrity here!” Eddie chances a glance and his eyes land on a tall and lanky boy with broad shoulders and glasses that are far too big for his face. He looks like a fucking asshole. 

“R-r-richie!” Another boy stutters and Eddie looks at him too, suddenly frozen as the attention of the entire group is suddenly pointed directly at him. “D-d-don’t be an asshole.”

A girl with bright red hair slaps Richie’s arm with one hand while she brings a lit cigarette up to her rosy lips with her other like it’s the most natural thing in the world to beat a friend. “God, Richie, do you ever think before you open that trash mouth of yours?”

The ugly one has the decency to look a little sheepish as he rubs at his sore arm, but then he opens his mouth again and Eddie doesn’t have to know much more about him to answer the girl’s question. 

“Oh, baby, you wound me! I thought you loved this mouth. That’s what you were telling me last ni--”

“Can it, Richie, or I swear to god I will punch you so hard in the teeth that you’ll need dentures.” She pushes him away and approaches Eddie, flicking the cigarette into the gutter so she can hold her hand out. He stares at it like it’s a snake poised to strike. “Don’t pay him any mind. He’s always like this.”

“What, insufferable?” Eddie huffs before he realizes what he’s said. There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence, so heavy he’s sure they must hear his heart rattling against his ribcage. All six sets of eyes are trained on him as one by one, they devolve into a fit of laughter that has them doubling over.

“Are you guys serious? You’re going to let him talk about me like this?” Richie holds a hand over his heart like he’s been mortally wounded and Eddie doesn’t feel the least bit bad for rolling his eyes.

“You’re damn right we are,” the girl grins and Eddie finally shakes her hand. Her skin is soft and sunkissed, and she squeezes his hand gently before letting go. “Anyway, I’m Bev. Beverly Marsh. Welcome to the losers club.”

And that’s how Eddie spends the next two hours learning everything there is to know about the losers.

There’s Bill, the boy with the stilted stutter and soft eyes. He’s confident in a way that Eddie envies, and it’s clear by the way he talks and all of them lean closer that he’s the apparent leader.

Next is Stan, a crisp and clean boy that acts more like a disapproving father to them all than a friend. But it’s clear they love him dearly as he introduces himself with a firm handshake and a timid smile.

Beverly is a force to be reckoned with, Eddie can tell as she chain smokes and smiles with nothing but her eyes alone. He wonders if maybe they’re all a little in love with her and that’s why they keep her around. He realizes, later, how unfair his assumptions are because it becomes evident that she brings out the absolute best in all of them.

Mike is hard to pin down. He’s quiet and strong. His voice makes Eddie’s shoulders straighten, not in fear, but in a desperate need to impress. His hands are worn and gentle as he clasps Eddie on the shoulder and he welcomes him with open arms. Eddie thinks he would trust this boy with his life immediately after meeting him.

Behind them and off to the side is Ben, a quiet boy with an even softer voice but he’s excited when he pushes through the group to offer Eddie a complete history lesson of the town. Even more so when Eddie tells him he’s interested in learning more, even if it is a little weird.

They’re all a little weird, and that’s why he likes them so much. They don’t ask him questions about his past, and they don’t ask him about his mom. They accept him exactly how he is without question, and Eddie pathetically thinks he could cry.

But then there’s Richie. At every opportune moment, he interjects himself into the conversation with crude comments and humorless jokes. His grin is crooked and he stinks of smoke and he never once tries to apologize for calling Eddie out. Not that Eddie thinks he would. It’s clear he’s never uttered an apology in his entire life. Eddie doesn’t like him, and by the way Richie huffs every time Eddie ignores him, it seems like the feeling is mutual.

As the sun begins to dip past the buildings, Eddie thinks he could be content to stand here and talk to the losers all night until Richie suddenly stands up straighter and swears.

“Fuck! What time is it? Shit, I have to go. I’m going to be late. Oh fuck, he’s going to kill me.” He fishes in his pockets, fumbling to pull out his keys. “Sorry, guys, don’t have too much fun without me! Kidding, that’s impossible.” Richie hurries off across the street to the old, rusted Ford pickup that’s parked.

“Hey, where are you going?” Stan calls after him, deep-set frown on his face. “You promised to drive us home!”

“I’ll beg for your forgiveness tomorrow, princess. See you losers at the Barrens!” The engine turns over, struggling to catch before roaring to life and he peels out with a loud honk of the horn and a middle finger up in the air.

Eddie doesn’t just dislike him, he _hates_ him.

“W-w-where do you think he-s g-g-going?” Bill asks with a frown. “Do you think he g-got a job?”

Beverly chews on her lip and shakes her head, fiery curls bouncing. “Richie Tozier with a job? You’re delusional. He’s chronically late to everything and the whole town knows it. No way would anyone hire him. But… this is the third time this week he’s run off like that…”

The losers look at each other, and for the first time since he got there, Eddie feels like an outsider. He doesn’t care much about why Richie ran off. In fact, he’s almost relieved to not feel Richie’s heavy stare judging him.

“What are the Barrens?” Eddie interrupts and just like that, everyone seemingly forgets their worries.

“A secret place,” Beverly teases, poking her tongue out ever so slightly. Stan rolls his eyes.

“It’s where we hang out.”

“Yeah! We have a clubhouse there and tomorrow is the grand re-re-re-opening,” Ben chimes in and the excitement he radiates is contagious. 

“You should c-c-come. Muh-meet us at the Kissing Bridge tomorrow and we’ll sh-sh-show you.” Bill smiles at Eddie and he feels like it would be impossible to say no to him. He’s anxious, though. He doesn’t know these people very well, still doesn’t know what the Barrens are very well, but… maybe going out will be better than suffering the sweltering heat of his aunt’s kitchen for another day.

He’s scared. What if they don’t like him as much tomorrow? What if they’re luring him somewhere so they can make fun of him? He saw that once in a movie when his mom was at the store. Mike makes up his mind for him by clapping him on the shoulder with a soft smile as if to say, it’s okay, we’re your friends now.

Eddie smiles too and nods his head. “Yeah, sure, I’ll come. As long as my aunt’s okay with it.”

That night, Eddie rides his bike home with a bag of flour in the basket and a hopeful feeling in his chest. The world doesn’t seem quite so big when you’re not alone.


End file.
